


Fathers and Sons

by Daegaer



Series: The Best Days of their Lives [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels, Children, Demons, Gen, Half-Human, Snakes, Synoptic and Johannine Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-26
Updated: 2007-04-26
Packaged: 2020-06-10 19:57:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19514083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale get updates on their sons' lives.





	Fathers and Sons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [louise_lux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louise_lux/gifts).



> Written for a time-stamp meme, the AU for Louise Lux's _Baby Snakes_ , another ten years down the line.

"I don't see why we have to go," Crowley said sulkily, leaning back and folding his arms. The Bentley continued tearing down the pleasant leafy lane at ninety miles per hour.

"Please look where you're going," Aziraphale said, clutching at the dashboard. "And grow _up_ , Crowley. It'll do you good to see the boys."

Crowley glowered, but put his hands back on the steering wheel, and drove back onto the main road. He was getting bored with seeing Aziraphale fend off picturesque foliage. "Fine," he muttered. "One day, then I'm not setting foot in this place for the next century."

Aziraphale patted his arm. "We'll have time for me to visit Blackwell's, won't we?"

"Don't push it," Crowley said.

There were worse things, Crowley supposed, than having mortal serpentine shape-shifting children possessing a fascination with Theology. Someone might know about them, for example. Someone other than Aziraphale, who was no doubt the reason for the boys' unhealthy hobby in the first place.

"Oh, I was not," Aziraphale said huffily.

"Don't you dare read my mind when I'm driving!" Crowley said, outraged. A fellow had his dignity, after all.

"You," Aziraphale said, "Were muttering. And your voce wasn't very sotto, let me tell you." He fiddled with the car phone, fending off Crowley's irritated attempt to slap him away. "Hello?" he yelled into the phone. "Matthew? Oh, sorry, Mark. Hello, dear. We'll be there soon – but let's meet in a nice restaurant, your father's been talking about bringing back old time religion, and I'm not sure you'd want him turning up at your work in that sort of mood. Yes, tell the others, dear." He hung up and flinched to find Crowley glaring at him crossly. "Look at the _road_!" he shrieked.

"It's just a _truck_ ," Crowley snapped as the Bentley swerved by itself to avoid the obstacle.

Neither of them spoke much after that. It was a real relief to reach Oxford.

"Just five minutes in Blackwells," Aziraphale pleaded as they shot past.

Crowley laughed hollowly, in the manner of a demon who wasn't going to fall for _that_ again, thank you very much. He slammed on the brakes as one of the boys leapt into the road, waving cheerfully. "Remember where we parked," Crowley said, hopping out.

"Ow," Aziraphale said sadly, rubbing his forehead and glaring at the dashboard. He followed and hugged . . . Luke, he decided.

"Look at him," Crowley hissed in what Aziraphale personally thought was an extremely unsubtle way. "What _is_ he wearing?"

"It's a poloneck," Luke said. "And a nice jacket."

"Oh, God," Crowley moaned, casting a guilty look upwards. "I didn't think it could get worse – but are you teaching French now?"

Luke rolled his eyes in a rude gesture Aziraphale was _sure_ hadn't come from _him_ , and pulled them down the path and into a restaurant. Matthew and Mark bounced up, grinning.

"Hi!"

"Hello!"

"Where's John?" Crowley said, grabbing the wine list before sitting down.

"You know him," Matthew said. "He always comes later than us."

Crowley looked at them vaguely, and shrugged, as if he was mildly interested they were still alive, but couldn't quite get up the interest to actually inquire after their lives. "Right," he said. "I suppose you want me to pay for dinner, then?"

"Don't mind him, boys," Aziraphale said, "I'll pay."

"We can pay," Matthew, Mark and Luke chorused.

"Why?" Crowley said, eyeing them over the top of his sunglasses.

"What have you been up to?" Aziraphale said suspiciously.

The boys shifted uneasily in their seats, as if they quite fancied slithering off to hide.

"Nothing," Matthew said.

"Honest," Mark added.

"Really," Luke assured them solemnly.

Before the truth could be tortured out of them, a happy trill of "Hello! _There_ you are!" rang out and John flung his arms round first Crowley, then Aziraphale.

"Do you have to wear that thing in public?" Crowley sighed, regarding the dog collar in disgust.

"Well, yes," John said. He beamed round at everyone. "Have you told them?" he said.

"Told them what?" Matthew said, looking at the tablecloth.

"Not much has been happening," Mark murmured, examining the ceiling.

"Life's just chugging along," Luke said, peering at his fingernails.

"Ow!" John said, jumping as if three people had kicked his shins all at the same time. His brothers regarded him with disgust. Crowley grabbed the nearest son and pulled him halfway across the table.

"Told us what?" he inquired pleasantly.

"We're getting married," Matthew said in a little voice.

"Not to each other," Mark hissed quickly.

"'Cos that'd be weird," Luke said, smiling disarmingly into Crowley's face and trying to wriggle back to his seat. "Dad, people are looking –"

Crowley let him go and turned to John expectantly.

"I'm marrying them," John beamed. "In Oriel chapel."

Crowley buried his face in his hands and whimpered queries as to where he'd gone wrong as a parent.

"Isn't that lovely news?" Aziraphale said in determinedly cheerful tones. "And you didn't even tell us about these lucky . . . girls?" He carefully didn't laugh at their faces. "Right. Girls. Spill the beans, boys!"

Mark produced a photo, quickly followed by Matthew and Luke. Aziraphale blinked. "Look, Crowley," he said gamely. "The boys have found identical quad—"

"Triplets," Matthew, Mark and Luke said.

"Identical triplets," Aziraphale said. "Isn't that, er, nice?"

"I was going out with one of them first," Mark said. "These two just copied me."

"We did --," Matthew said.

"—no such thing," Luke finished.

"Oh, you did so! You copy everything I do. Every time I turn round –"

"Boys!" Aziraphale said sternly. "No squabbling!" He didn't like to sound like an overly fussing parent, but the boys had never really grown out of turning into snakes when they fought, and the restaurant was one he really thought he'd like to be able to show his face in again.

"Triplets?" Crowley said, grabbing a photo. He looked at John. "So you're marrying a different girl? Huh. I wouldn't have thought you were the marrying type, I always thought you took more after –" He stopped at the sight of Aziraphale's expression.

"Oh, I'm not getting married at all," John said. "I'm quite happy being celibate."

Crowley buried his face back in his hands and resumed his self-excoriation.


End file.
